


It's Not About Having the Words

by artesiaminor



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (kinda), Awkward Conversations, Battle, Best Friends, Conversations, Dialogue Heavy Toward the End, Felix Hugo Fraldarius Being an Asshole, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Friendship/Love, Gender-Neutral My Unit | Byleth, Insecurity, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Death but so small it's not worth tagging majorly, Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Pining Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Spoilers for Several Support Conversations, Strategy & Tactics, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, They/Them Pronouns for My Unit | Byleth, no beta we die like Glenn, slight canon divergence?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artesiaminor/pseuds/artesiaminor
Summary: Sylvain's a words guy. Felix knows this. Everybody knows it. It's how he expresses himself, and how he needs to be expressed to, otherwise Sylvain just doesn't seem to understand.Which is why it's such a shame that Felix is so bad at communicating. Because sometimes, he really needs Sylvain to understand, and at this rate, he never will.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 191





	It's Not About Having the Words

**Author's Note:**

> Mature mainly for language and some talk of violence. Let me know if you think this should be changed.

Sylvain was in the dining hall, overthinking.

Felix had an idea as to why. It was the lecture that Ingrid gave him. It had to do with something out in the last battle. Something about his magic abilities and how if he planned on using it as a last resort he better make sure he could aim. It was something to do with nearly blowing the both of them up.

Felix was, perhaps, more of an eavesdropper than he let on.

It was just easier than talking to people. He wasn’t like Claude and Sylvain; he never knew how to get what he wanted out of people, and didn’t know how to converse to smooth over the fact that he obviously wanted something.

Leaning his head against the monastery wall, he watched Sylvain pick at his food and not eat. It wasn’t pouting, which is what some might chalk it up to. This was far more contemplative, and usually was for more destructive to Sylvain's own psyche.

If Felix knew Sylvain well — and he liked to think he did — Sylvain would circle around the things he knew and almost eat his food while doing it: He’d recall Annette and him studying, he’d think about Dimitri clapping him on the back and explaining how indispensable Sylvain was, and dozens of other stories about his friends and how much they needed him and it would almost bring Sylvain to eat. Then, what Sylvain feared would beat out what he knew, and he’d set the fork down.

Once Sylvain started down the trail of self-doubt, he usually got lost on it. Felix only wished he was better at guiding him back out. But he wasn’t.

All Felix could think about in those moments was taking a sword to all those who contributed to Sylvain’s shit self-esteem: The girls who eyed Sylvain for nothing more than good looks and a crest, his cold-blooded father, his complacent mother, his bastard of a brother who made everything all that much fucking _worse_ when he became a monster before their very eyes. Sylvain’s family was so damn good at compounding the guilt, and Sylvain was a far more diligent son than he let on, because he carried their blame and guilt on his back like their personal pack-mule of family garbage. Felix could hardly stand it.

He looked at the potato on his fork, swished his mouth back and forth like he was trying to force that smirk on his face, but when he couldn’t he dropped the fork down. Felix sighed.

“Talk to him."

Ingrid’s voice startled him. For such a brawn woman, Felix hadn’t heard her approach. He glanced over his shoulder.

“And say what?”

“Say that you’re worried about him. Or, tell him one of your guys' stories. Anything. Whatever you think is best.”

Ingrid spoke like it was so simple, deciphering what was "best". For her, it probably was.

“You’re the one who did it to him, why don’t you go talk to him?” he snapped.

“Please, he doesn’t need to hear any more from me,” she snorted. “Besides, I know you both appreciate my commentary,” she said, tone smug.

“Your lectures,” Felix corrected. “Your _nagging_.” However, Felix did not deny that he appreciated them. Ingrid was too good to both of them, which was perhaps something he should express someday. With how often she lectured Felix and Sylvain, it was very obvious how important they were to her, even if such a sentiment was bellowed at a volume and velocity that in the moment made him want to cringe.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Either way. You know I made clear how I felt about him.”

Ingrid had. Ingrid had told him how she wanted him to be careful. How much he meant to her. How she needed him to be around to keep her hopes up, for he always managed to cheer her up even when he was flirting with disaster. Especially when he was flirting with disaster, sometimes. That had earned her a chuckle from him, and Felix knew that all was resolved between the two. However, something she had said must have put the hooks in, because his mind seemed to spiral down ever since.

Still, the fact that Ingrid knew he was listening made Felix bristle, haughty and defensive. “What does that mean?”

“It means you spend too much time watching conversations rather than starting them yourself.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms, turning away from the Dining Hall and facing her head on. “Hardly.” Felix wasn’t a big fan of talking anyway. 

“Go. Talk to him.”

"What am I supposed to do, give him a pep-talk? Like that’ll do anything.” _Especially from me_ , he thought. “My words mean little."

Ingrid’s glance flickered beyond Felix, back to Sylvain. Then she met Felix’s eyes. “Not to him.”

Maybe Ingrid’s lectures were more of a nuisance than Felix gave them credit for. Hot air sweltered in his chest, frustration tightening his throat. He huffed and looked away from her stare. “If he doesn’t…” Felix drifted, the words scrambling in his throat. “If he doesn’t know how important he is, then he isn’t paying attention. Not my problem.”

Ingrid softened at that. “Felix.” Her tone was nothing less than chiding, but the volume was uncharacteristically lulling. “How often does Sylvain let you know how important you are to him?” 

“Too often,” Felix quipped. Too rushed. Too open. He saw the smile on Ingrid’s face and he wanted to run. Take his sword and chop something up, tired of talking. 

Ingrid shrugged. "Sylvain’s a words guy."

That was the understatement of the Moon. Sylvain needed words, too many words, to confirm things he should already know. Acted like Felix needed them too. Sylvain would take an axe to the back for Felix and then would spend his time in the infirmary bed explaining to Felix just how important he was to him. As though Felix couldn’t tell from the fact that he had _literally_ thrown himself in front of an axe.

Felix would tell him how unnecessary all the elaboration was, and Sylvain would laugh. " _I know, but, I just need to get it out there,_ ” he’d always say. Or something like it. It’s not like Felix wrote it down.

Remembering that, Felix had to concede that Ingrid had a point. He could try harder to reciprocate at least some of the time.

“Fine, I’ll try.”

Shoving off the wall, he turned back towards the Dining Hall only to see Sylvain was already preoccupied in a conversation with Mercedes. A smile had taken place of the forlorn look that he had been wearing, and Mercedes was making sure that he ate his food.

She was a good friend.

With a hum, Felix turned back to Ingrid. “See, told you he didn’t need me.”

She blanched. “You could —“

Cutting Ingrid off with a wave of his hand, Felix stalked off to the training grounds. Ingrid was getting to him, an inexplicable wave of disappointment rushing over him. _Ridiculous_ , Felix thought, trying to cram the emotion into the corner of his mind. _I didn’t have anything to say, anyway._

* * *

It was sundown, and Sylvain was in the stables with his horse.

The horse laid on the ground and Sylvain knelt in front of her, feeding her from one hand while he stroked her muzzle with the other.

Felix's horse, Ranulf, liked him well enough, but it was hardly the relationship Sylvain had managed to create with his creature. He spent less time with his horse. Rarely used Ranulf in battle, preferring to go on foot. He didn't like the liability of the horse getting spooked, and it was hardly conducive to his fighting style.

Besides, he wasn’t great with animals.

Even to the mare Sylvain cooed praises. “What a pretty girl,” he said. He was done with the fodder, and had moved on to giving her apple slices. “You did great out there, you did. How’s your tummy doing?” Nodding along, like Felix was a part of the conversation, he recalled that Sylvain's horse had gotten hurt in the last battle, a lance graze down its side. “Yeah, that’s healing nicely. Thanks for keeping on moving after you got that, or else we both would have been in trouble. Yeah, you’re a good girl.”

Felix watched as Sylvain tipped his forehead to touch with the forehead of his horse. _Sothis_ , it was like he loved her. Knowing Sylvain, he probably did.

“How is she?” Felix asked.

Sylvain perked up. The horse immediately bucked at the sound of Felix’s voice, scrambling against the floor. Sylvain immediately reached out and shushed the horse to relax, and Felix kicked himself for breaking their calm.

Sylvain laughed though, a more delighted sound than he'd heard from him in a while. His hair looked ablaze and his eyes were brighter than the gold of the falling light. It was intense, considering how tender the moment had been.

“She’s doing much, much better.” Sylvain pet through her hair, which Felix noticed was combed to smooth. “In a few days, she’ll be rearing to go again. Wish she didn’t have to, though."

“I understand. Glad she’s better, though.”

That was the extent of conversation Felix could muster up. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he was doing, coming Sylvain’s way after he tended to his own horse. He'd combed out the knots of Ranulf's mane, fed him, gave him a few apple slices, then he left. No love lost there, to Felix, since Ranulf was a horse and he had better things to do than sing its praises.

“How are you?” Sylvain asked. “You all healed up?”

Felix’s eyes widened at that. He’d forgotten his minor injury entirely, if he were being honest. “Mm?” Looking down at his side, his hand passed over where an arrow cut through him. He should probably keep better tabs on it. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“That’s good.” Sylvain tipped forward and shushed the horse and brought it back to calm. Without looking back at Felix, Sylvain teased, “You’re such a brat when you’re injured.”

Part of Felix thought he should be offended, but he found himself agreeing with a shrug. “I don’t like laying around.”

“I know.” Sylvain looked back at him, smiling. Not his usual smirk, not his playful grin. It was soft and warmer than Felix recalled.

The look was disintegrating Felix where he stood. He needed to turn the conversation anywhere else. He looked at the sand colored mare. “She loves you," Felix said, gesturing to the creature.

He cringed. There was a large possibility such a comment wouldn't make the conversation feel any less vulnerable.

“Hm?” Sylvain glanced back at her, and gave it a gentle stroke between its ears. “Yeah, well, she likes that I feed her.”

It was more than that, but Sylvain was never good at admitting that something could love him. There had been this tabby-cat around the monastery when they were students that loved Sylvain, too. It would lay on his desk while he studied, brush up against his legs while he walked. Sylvain dismissed the animal's affections as it merely wanting something warm, but Felix begged to differ. The damn thing even licked Sylvain's wounds whenever he was injured, and when Miklan died the cat stayed close to him as though it knew Sylvain was in distress.

That stupid cat was better at emotions than Felix was. Too bad it was gone now.

“My horse doesn’t do that.” 

“Oh, it just means she's comfortable with me. Horses do this, when they're comfortable." Then Sylvain blinked, as if he hadn't been listening before. "But, Ranulf?” Sylvain scoffed. “He loves you, he’s just so much like you, so, to you it might seem like he doesn’t love you.”

Felix quirked up an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

Sylvain’s smile was quirked up, amused. His gaze was still so earnest, however. None of the humor touched them, like when he teased Felix. “He's a little rough around the edges. Ferdinand had said he was a wild colt when we got him. It’s easy to mistake his demeanor as indifference, but he loves you just like you think Titania here loves me.” Sylvain flicked his hand into his horse’s hair and twirled it around his fingers. "In battle, we’re a team. She’s all I’ve got.”

What in the world was that supposed to mean? They were among an _army_. Then again, Felix supposed he understood a little. The army got split up. Felix and Sylvain, they were good enough and reckless enough to head to the front lines and chase down attackers. Sometimes it does feel like he’s alone.

Yet, they were usually in the front lines _together_. Felix always watched out for him; surely Sylvain knew that. “You have me out there.”

That caused Sylvain to freeze. His eyes were dark. Though Felix refused to make eye contact, it didn't matter, because he could feel Sylvain's watchful gaze on him. Felix could practically see the notes Sylvain was scrawling in his head.

Everything was always a study for Sylvain — not as outwardly as it had been for Linhardt or as prodding as it had been for Claude but — he was always paying close attention. Too smart for his own good.

“Yeah?” Sylvain finally asked.

All that thinking and that’s all the conversation he could contribute? Didn’t he know that Felix needed him to speak after all these years? Felix cleared his throat. “Of course. Idiot.”

That made Sylvain smile. He stood up, the rays of the sun in between the wooden slats giving Sylvain a daunting silhouette. Yet Felix was not afraid. "We’re a team, too,” Sylvain said.

Felix nodded in agreement.

“Was there something you needed?”

There was a lot of thoughts that flickered through Felix’s mind, but nothing he could latch onto. This all still felt surreal, being back at Garreg Mach. Felix wanted to ask Sylvain what he thought of it all. Facing old friends in battle, then return to the very place they met them and plot how to kill more of them. How was he handling it? He wanted to ask what Sylvain thought of the Professor, returned in their exalted and strange manner. Was it really the work of the goddess? Were they supposed to treat the Professor as a deity? Felix even thought that, perhaps, they should talk about Dimitri, though that would only piss Felix off.

All these thoughts culminated in Felix just shaking his head. “No.”

“Okay.”

They didn’t speak while Sylvain made his way out of the stable, tiptoeing around his horse. He brushed himself off and brought his attention back to Felix. Felix shifted where he stood.

Usually Sylvain would be talking. It would be about nothing, and usually Felix would say something more cutting than he intended and Sylvain would breeze on by like it didn’t matter. This, though, felt different. His voice had been delicate the whole time, and even Felix found himself feeling puzzlingly gentle. Sylvain seemed unaffected by the stilted words, by the softness of their voices, but Felix felt twitchy.

“What?” Felix finally asked, unable to bear his friend's stare any longer.

Sylvain laughed. “Nothing.”

What was he so amused about? He felt squeamish, couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being stupid, and in turn, was being mocked.

“Stop looking at me like an idiot.” 

The smile dropped off Sylvain's face. “Is that what I’m doing?” Focus took place of the smile, looking at Felix like he did one of his Reason texts. Felix regretted saying anything.

Felix turned away, making his way out of the stables. “You’re just — you’re looking at me like you expect something."

“Well, you can’t blame me too much.” Sylvain laced his hands together and put them behind his head, but his gaze never left Felix. “You’re acting a little odd.”

“I am?” Felix asked, indignant. “If I am, it’s because of you.”

“How so?” He sounded far too entertained.

“I…” Felix didn’t know how to respond to that. It wasn’t his fault. Sylvain was just being Sylvain, and Felix was trying not to be too much like himself, which was coming off strange. Of course Sylvain would notice. “I guess I don’t know.”

“Fe.” The way his tone changed made Felix cringe. So _serious_. “Are you alright?”

Felix rolled his shoulders and started walking. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Everything about you is screaming otherwise.”

Something in him snapped. The gentleness in him gone. “What are you going on about?" He was pretty sure he didn't want an answer. "Never mind. Leave me alone. Go pay attention to one of your girls, they actually _want_ your undivided attention.”

Sylvain raised his hands up and he stepped away from Felix, but continued walking alongside him. “Did I do something to make you mad?”

“You would have no idea if you did, would you?”

Felix didn’t know why he was so irritated. Sylvain hadn't done anything, and yet there was this cluelessness that hung in the air that rubbed him the wrong way. Moments ago everything was kind, and now Felix felt antsy.

Maybe that was the problem. Felix didn’t know how to deal with kind, soft moments. They made him nervous, twisted up, and he felt stupid for feeling nervous, so he’d rather be angry.

“Felix, whatever it is, I’m sorry.” The humor was gone. _Goddess_ , Sylvain sounded so dejected. Felix shivered, it felt like a stripe of cold water was dumped down his back.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe a bit calmer, realizing just how ferocious he appeared. There was no reason for it. With anyone else he'd keep his emotions in check, but with Sylvain he just made a mess of things. It was like he couldn't control himself.

Felix's breath was hot, his face was warm, everything was boiling. “You — you don’t have anything to be sorry about.” The moment he said it, a wave of cool passed through. What was he doing? Sylvain was his best friend — this whole endeavor was to try to show him… something. Felix wasn't sure what, but it wasn't meant to become like this. “You didn’t do anything. I — I’m sorry.”

When he finally glanced back up at Sylvain, all he saw was raw concern. He looked away. Sylvain reached out. “Hey, are you —“

Felix dodged. “If you’ll excuse me.” Sothis, now he sounded too fucking _formal_.

Felix all but ran to the training grounds, feeling Sylvain’s eyes on him even as he turned the corner. Felt Sylvain's stare even as he picked up his sword and ran it through the dummy with nothing but blind rage.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Byleth and Sylvain were entrenched in discussion when Felix walked by the war-room.

He’d been surprised to still hear the two of them. The war meeting finished hours ago, Felix had left to train until the moon was high into the sky. It was _late_. Everyone struggled with sleeping these days, the Professor likely not immune to the stressors of war despite their divine-status, but Felix thought they were smart enough to at least _try_ to rest.

Then again, Felix wasn't an idiot, but he often preferred anything but sleep.

Felix walked past, but then tip-toed back so that he could stand outside the wall and listen. His time as an assassin had helped him gain the skillset of near-silent footsteps. He was almost as good as Ashe.

“If we do it your way, Professor, then our infantry hold the brunt of the risk,” Sylvain said.

“I’d rather the risk fall on a collective of the infantry than the shoulders of one man,” Byleth replied. “Your strategy is a more direct approach, and will likely not falter in obtaining our goal, but the probability of a fatality is that much higher. Almost guaranteed."

Sylvain sighed. “Yes, but it’d be likely one death instead of possibly many, and as you point out, it’s more direct. It’s much more likely to succeed."

“Sylvain.” Byleth’s voice was leveling, it even caused Felix’s heart to become silent. “I do not adhere to that kind of thinking, and I don’t believe you do either. The only reason you’re even considering your strategy is because it would be _you_ who was bearing the risk.”

“That isn’t true —“

“So, you’re saying if I put Lorenz or Ingrid in this position instead of you, you’d be all for it?” Byleth countered.

The voices stilled. Felix wasn’t great at these overarching strategies. He was more of an "in-the-moment" tactician, able to change directions when the orders he’d been given had failed, as they often did to some capacity. However, he was no fool. Sylvain was suggesting a suicide mission, with himself as the subject.

“No. Because they do not have the skillset that I do in order to achieve it.”

“They don’t?” Byleth asked. “Lorenz is able to wield magic better than you can, and is more lithe. Ingrid is even faster, and her mount would allow for a much quicker extraction. Why are you best suited for it?”

“I know I’m not as talented as Ingrid or Lorenz —“

“That is not what I said.” A large hum, it was the first time that Felix had truly heard frustration from the Professor in this setting. “I am questioning what skill you are suggesting that makes you better suited for your strategy.”

Silence befell them again. The Professor could keep this up for hours, never one for speaking, but Sylvain couldn’t. Sylvain would try to change the topic, and Byleth might let him, Felix wasn’t sure. He hoped they wouldn’t.

The two of them were toeing around a conversation that Felix had had with Sylvain a thousand times. Perhaps with the Professor’s help, the message could be hammered in.

“Sylvain’s _skill_ that Lorenz and Ingrid lack is unwavering self-loathing,” Felix said, leaving his place outside and stepping into the room.

Byleth looked up, their eyes giving away nothing of surprise. It wouldn’t shock Felix if the Professor had known the entire time that he was there. It might have been the reason that they brought the topic up in the first place.

Sylvain, on the other hand, looked panicked. 

“Felix!”

“Let me guess, you have suggested some incredibly reckless idea and put yourself as the spearhead to that plan.” Felix stepped forward, eyes down at the map. He saw the black piece, a knight from a chess game, where it was stationed.

He saw all the enemies, painted red, swarming it.

Felix was going to fucking strangle Sylvain if he went through with this.

Sylvain knew it, too. Oh, did Sylvain know it. Looking up at Felix like he was a petulant child after having just broken some expensive art piece. Shameful, eyes glimmering with the knowledge of what he’d done and what Felix was going to do to him.

Felix’s gaze flickered to the Professor. They looked stoic as always, but their attention had shifted to Felix.

“This is your plan?” Felix asked. “I’m not a tactician, but this seems like a fool’s errand.”

“It would get to Bernadetta quickly, who otherwise will make things a living hell for everyone with the ballista.”

Felix’s stomach twisted at the use of her name. It _would_ be Bernadetta, she was a damn good archer. Better than Ashe and Ignatz, if Felix was being honest.

Bernadetta had been Felix’s friend. And he was getting real tired of killing people who had once been his friend. Then again, it was better than the alternative, which Sylvain seemed to be suggesting.

“That would imply that you’d even _get_ to Bernadetta.” Felix pointed to the red next to the mouth of trees that the Professor and Sylvain had placed. “Who would you put here?” he asked. “To guard her?” Felix didn’t know himself, but he could hazard a guess. Sylvain, however, was good at guessing the moves of the opposing side. “If you were the Empire, who would you put here?”

“You’d put a healer, maybe two. Mostly cavalry. Some with longer range weapons, but axes would be smart.”

Byleth chimed in, then. “And Sylvain would be using the Lance of Ruin for this mission, so against axes he’d be at a disadvantage.”

“And you know this,” Felix remarked. Because of course Sylvain knew this. Because Sylvain wasn’t stupid, even when he was.

“Felix.”

Felix did not want to get emotional in front of the Professor. Even the usual anger that boiled within seemed inappropriate nowadays. When he was young, anger made him feel fierce and oddly respectable, because his anger was usually the colder and callous kind that cut through and left. Thought it showed him to be tough, because Glenn was always cold and callous when he was alive.

The difference, though, was that Glenn _was_ just gruff and cool-headed, whereas Felix had to work hard to come off that way, and often slipped up because he got too fucking angry.

Nowadays, Felix knew better. Was able to take his own advice to Ashe more seriously: be more moderate in your passions. Wrath was a passion, and he needed to calm down because flying off the handle was going to get them nowhere.

_Goddess_ , did he really want to fly off the handle.

“Your plan,” Felix reiterated. “Was to send yourself up against the ballista, against _Bernadetta_ , to stop her, even at the risk of you being flanked by magic users and those with axes, when you yourself are a lance user and are moderately decent with magic but we both know you aren’t impervious to it.” Felix breathed out hot air, trying to inhale the cold of the room to calm him down. “Is that right?”

“That is correct,” the Professor said.

“When you put it that way, it makes me sound insane,” Sylvain griped. He stood up, leaning over the map, staring directly at Felix though he was addressing Byleth. It was like they were playing one of Sylvain's board games. The games Felix rarely won.

When Sylvain looked at the map like he did a board game, he became a different person. Not the carefree man Felix had grown up with, with a cheeky smile on his face and a penchant for wanting to rile someone up. He was a _commander_. It was the time where he actually showed he was brilliant, no holding back. This was his domain, and everyone else was just along for the ride.

“If we sent in Ingrid, she’d be shot down. She’s on a Pegasus, they’re easy to see, they’re highly susceptible to arrows, it’d be overly dangerous. Ingrid is one hell of a Pegasus-Knight, she dodges more than she gets hit, but this would be a high volume of arrows and any single one would bring her down and kill her.” Sylvain spoke quickly, knowing he had something to prove. It’d never be enough. “If we sent in Lorenz, the axes would be upon him in no time. I can switch from my Lance of Ruin to an axe, hell, because of Felix I can kind of handle a sword, but Lorenz isn’t skilled with either. He’s got magic, and he’s got his lance, and that’s it.”

Byleth said, “He could use magic and stay away.”

Sylvain’s gaze shifted to the Professor. “If he stays too far away he puts himself in open air for Bernadetta to shoot him down herself.” Sylvain shook his head. “It wouldn’t work."

“These are both true,” Byleth noted.

That was the problem with Sylvain, wasn't it? He was right. When he put forward strategies that fueled his self-loathing, they would, in fact, work. It was just that the only one who didn't see that the cost was too high was Sylvain, because Sylvain would wager his life for nothing.

Sylvain stood up and moved his piece. “I can move quickly. Titania is well equipped to handle archers, and I know how to use the weaponry to combat whoever I meet that is waiting for me beyond this mouth of trees.” With a shaky breath, he pushed forward and took out Bernadetta. “That’s why I think I’m best suited.”

“But if we use those not on mounts,” Byleth said, rearranging the pieces on the board. “Then we have several shots at Bernadetta, a wide use of weaponry and magic, and an ability to not only get the ballista but those that surround it.”

“Yeah,” Sylvain watched the pawns be placed in a half-moon around the area, removing his knight piece. “But this ballista’s shots can hurt more than just one. We’d end up with _more_ casualties. It’d take out more of our soldiers, and it’s less direct. They’d alert more people as to what they’re doing, and may draw out even more soldiers. It may end up being an ambush.”

Felix tipped his head. “If you started off by having groups block those flanking, even if they wanted to alert others they couldn’t. As for the issue of more casualties, what if we placed Mercedes here, and Flayn over here? Healers that could heal an entire area instead of trying to mitigate the problem one by one?” Felix didn’t know why he spoke up. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing. Still, his mouth kept moving. “It’d be a hack-job, but —“

“No, that was my thinking entirely, Felix.” Byleth said.

He felt warmth rise to his cheeks. It was like he was a student all over again. Every time he was praised by the Professor, all he could think to say was “it’s nothing.”

Sylvain placed his hands on the table, palms down, knuckles jutting out of his big hands. His face was red, jaw gritted. He glanced up at the professor.

“Yes, that would work. It would work, Felix. Probably very well, in fact.” Sylvain gave Felix a soft smile, but sighed like he was exasperated. Then he pressed off the table and looked at Felix. "Excuse me for a moment Professor. Felix?”

For anyone else, Felix would stand still for a few moments longer than necessary just to show his reluctance. Sylvain always joked _"you just like to be_ _difficult_ ", which may have more truth than Felix was willing to admit.

But this was Sylvain, and Felix usually did as Sylvain asked, because it was rare for Sylvain to truly ask him to do anything. So he followed Sylvain out to the hall where he first started eavesdropping. Sylvain probably knew it because he went further down the hall and came to a sudden halt, out of earshot of the Professor.

There was something disturbing in the air, in his demeanor, in that moment. Broad shoulders balled up to his ears, breath held taught within him, hands trembling. Even without his armor Sylvain was brawn, and for some reason that always surprised Felix. In these halls he still expected the lanky skirt-chaser who was just a little bit more developed compared to his fellow students because of his slight age advantage.

Seeing the big and the bold Sylvain tensed up in such apprehension made Felix nervous. Which made him angry.

“It’d be _you_ , Felix.” When Sylvain said it, the man seemed to lose all of his air. He turned around, and in one fell swoop his entire body drooped. “It’d be you against Bernadetta.”

That made Felix's breath catch. That was a large assumption, considering how the plan had been described to him. Felix crossed his arms and leaned against the stone walls, waiting for Sylvain to explain. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s the infantry. The foot soldiers. Swordsmen. _You_. Some archers, maybe a mage, but I _know_ you. You’re faster. You’re… skilled. To be smart about this, you'd be in the group going for the ballista, and because you are, well, you, it would be you against Bernadetta.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at Sylvain. Why did he bother so much with it? Felix wasn’t even aware Sylvain knew they had spoken, let alone thought their bond was so deep he had to be concerned about it. “And?”

Sylvain scratched the back of his head. He looked like he was kicking himself to death in his brain. Felix wished he would stop.

“You two are friends."

"Were," Felix corrected. "We're at war, Sylvain. With her directly. This isn't like the Alliance who took their sweet time to make up their minds about whether they were friend or foe, the Empire _is_ the enemy and Bernadetta is part of the Empire."

Sylvain furrowed his eyebrows. "Still." He said it so dismissively Felix might as well have said nothing. "Look, the infantry groups? That was my first plan. But, then I realized just what that would mean for you, and, I thought… I know you don’t like _my_ preferred plan, but at least —“

A hot flash of red invaded Felix’s vision. Was Sylvain suggesting what he thought he was?

“You’re an imbecile. You should not be harboring such concerns in the war room. Your role is to go with the best strategy to win the war, not be concerned with menial feelings, especially when those feelings are sentiments you put in my mouth — not ones that I brought myself.” Felix spat at him.

Sylvain blanched. “I know. You think I don’t know? But a good tactician considers what will happen to morale if his soldiers go through with his plan. We _could_ just ask Lysithea to rain a torrent above cities where we know the imperial army is, but that would kill a bunch of innocent and ruin an entire area, and make her into a murderer. So we don’t do that. We fight.”

“And… you think _my_ morale would plummet, if I was made to kill Bernadetta. You think my morale would be in a bigger shit-hole if she died by my hand, than if _you_ got killed trying to prevent that?”

There goes that rage Felix tried to keep under control. He had to look away, but part of him wanted to stare directly in Sylvain's eyes so he could understand just how incredibly _pissed off_ he really was. "Bernadetta made her choice, she went with Edelgard. She didn’t have to do that. Ferdinand didn’t do that. Maybe I wish things were different, but they aren’t. She made her decision, and I am able to see her as a member of the imperial army. And as such, she must be stopped, and if that means killing her, I can and I will.” Felix bristled, finding himself getting more worked up and furious the more he thought about it. "Sylvain, do you really think I’d prefer a world with Bernadetta and _without_ you? Me and her, we were hardly close; it never even crossed my mind that you would think of it as either her or you, and you have to be a complete fucking moron to think that I would pick her.”

“I…” 

It was a rare sight to see Sylvain speechless. Felix was coming across more and more moments like that since the war started, and he didn’t like it. There was this twisting feeling in his heart. Felix's fingers were shaking, and he had to clutch them into fists to keep a hold on whatever control he had left.

Something else was mixing with his rage, too. Something that made him feel _worse_ , but he couldn’t name it. It felt something like grief, though.

“I mean, fuck, Sylvain. Haven’t I made it abundantly clear where my loyalties lie?” Sylvain was still at a loss of words, and Felix found himself hiccuping some sort of disturbed laugh. A noise he’d never heard from himself before. Groaning and kind of pathetic. He seethed. "I must not have, if this is truly what you think.” 

_Please tell me you just weren’t thinking_. Felix didn’t know how to be clearer, didn’t know if he was capable of it. They’d grown up together, surely that was enough? He knew that Sylvain had issues with self-worth, but Felix had attributed it to his worthless father and the idiotic women who doted on him, but he'd never thought that he was truly part of the problem.

Felix backed up and stared at him with a new perspective. Eyes roving anywhere but direct contact. It dawned on him, what was going on. Some days, Sylvain seemed so sure of himself. Some days, he seemed invincible, and it was on days like that Felix knew that Sylvain didn’t doubt Felix. But it was in moments like this that Sylvain seemed to forget. Or worse. Knew how Felix felt, but didn’t believe it.

Sylvain stuttered. “You — you have, I just —“

Most of the time Felix felt irritated enough at everyone else in Sylvain’s life to not confront him about it. Understood that tomorrow Sylvain would be reminded of the truth, and they would not have to discuss it. It was frustrating, Sylvain’s lack of self-worth, but he’d gotten used to it, like Sylvain had gotten used to Felix's inability to express himself. It was just part of who they were.

But this was a war, and Sylvain was part of the strategists, and Sylvain was putting forth all of his baggage into his decision-making. And at this moment, he _genuinely_ believed that Felix would rather a world where Bernadetta existed and he did not.

It made him sick.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding, Syl.”

Turning back towards the hallway, Felix was going back to the training grounds. All these goddess-damned emotions swirling the way they were, Felix couldn’t even imagine sleep.

Sylvain reached for him, and Felix jerked away. “Don’t.” His throat was raw, his voice was alarmingly hot, almost like fire was in his lungs instead of air. He began walking. “If you don’t do the infantry strategy, it’s you who I will run my sword through. Understand?”

He didn’t even bother to look to see Sylvain’s nod. This was not an idle threat. If he died for something as stupid as this, then Felix would spend the rest of his days trying to find a way to resurrect the man only to kill him again and again and again until they were both dead and gone. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Felix had managed it. Killing Bernadetta.

Sylvain had been right, because of course he was when it came to strategies. There were a lot of casualties using the infantry. Mercedes and Flayn did the best they could, but even Felix had left that battle with a nasty wound-turned-scar running from his left shoulder across his ribs and to his right side. A lancer had slashed him when he was trying to avoid one of Bernadetta's cross-bows. A stupid mistake. One that Felix was sure fueled Sylvain's desire to have gone with the other plan.

Bernadetta still had her stupid satchel. The one he tried over and over and over to give to her. Though she managed to lose that damn satchel all the time during her times at Garreg Mach, it was the first thing Felix noticed on her person. Like she knew it'd be him up there, and knew he'd see it, and thought that might make him hesitate.

It didn't. Instead it pulled at memories Felix was really hoping he wouldn't have to deal with, when he finally cut her down.

If she had managed her kill, she would have been able to do it from far away, and never known what Felix's expression was. Not that he'd have expressed much, except annoyance. Bernadetta, though? He had to get up close and personal when he killed her. And the look on her face surprised him, and was imprinted in his memory forever. It wasn't the shocked expression he'd seen when he watched Ingrid kill Dorothea. It wasn't even the anger that he expected when he watched Ignatz shoot down Petra. Bernadetta looked miserable. She'd always looked a little sad, but this was worse, and it was that much harder when Felix felt it himself.

However, she had kept firing at them. And Felix wasn't about to let himself or anyone else die for her.

Everyone was feeling grim in the infirmary. This battle ended up with more injuries than before, and not even the healers could remain upbeat. They were strung out, their hands tingling from overuse of magic, but they couldn't stop or people would die. 

Everyone knows it's bad when not even Mercedes can smile.

Leonie had started stitching herself up instead, trying to give the healers a break. She was hardly damaged, nothing but a few cuts from arrows and sparks from magic. Leonie was the master at either getting no injuries or a single terrifying blow.

Felix offered to be stitched as well, and Leonie scoffed. 

"Felix, you're actually hurt," she said. "Wait for a healer."

Felix wanted out of the tent. He didn't want to be surrounded by all the wounded. Raphael had a blast to his arm that was scorched and marred. Ashe had a cut on his forehead, and it was deep. Even the Boar was wounded, and he was making it damn near impossible for Annette to heal him comfortably.

There was just so much noise, it pounded in his head. Like he was still on the battlefield. The same rushing in his ears he got when he drove his sword so fiercely into Bernadetta it stuck her into her ballista.

"I need to get out of here," Felix muttered. It wasn't meant to be heard. He wasn't even sure why he said it.

Leonie clapped her hands on her knees, giving him a wide-eyed look. "Well, I'll go get Marianne, and then - I volunteered to go on patrol, if you want to come with me?"

Felix chuckled. There was no way he was getting out of here to go patrolling with an injury like his. She seemed to know it too, because she got this grin on her face.

"Oh, I can sneak you out."

* * *

Sneaking out went well for about five seconds, until they came across the Professor. Felix was actually pretty grateful it was them and not anyone else, because despite expressing concerns over his injury, they seemed to understand. " _Everyone needs a break sometimes,"_ they admitted.

Felix didn't like to think of himself as one in need of a "break". He wasn't a child. But this would help him breathe easier. Being on Ranulf with a wound across his back was not ideal, but he'd rather be out around Garreg Mach than in the infirmary.

Leonie was reaching for her bow and arrow, preparing to shoot into the forest surrounding the monastery. Patrolling with Leonie usually became more like hunting, but Felix didn't mind. It was something different and kept him active. She usually didn't talk too much, and didn't expect him to, either, which was nice. Very different from patrolling with Sylvain.

Not that he disliked patrolling with Sylvain, but sometimes Felix didn't want to talk too much. Besides, part of him was still madder than hell about his "strategies" before the battle. Even angrier at himself that he was such a shit communicator Sylvain could actually reach that conclusion.

The whole situation with Sylvain felt really twisted up and noxious, and the strange guilt and itchy feeling he got after killing Bernadetta only exacerbated the issue. 

"She was your friend, wasn't she?" Felix asked Leonie.

Leonie's eyebrows furrowed. "Who?" Then recognition fell on her face, and her expression went flat. "Oh. Yes. She was, in a way."

"I'm sorry, then."

Her eyes lit up, and she looked over at Felix. Leonie had the biggest eyes, but unlike say Ashe or even Claude, there was a much sharper glint to them. Critical and observatory. No wonder she was such a good hunter.

"Gotta say, I'm surprised to hear that out of you."

He couldn't handle the eye-contact. His gaze flickered beyond her. They were supposed to be patrolling the border, anyway. "I'm hardly immune to emotion, Leonie, nor do I deny its existence. I'm aware that my killing her may paint your view of me."

"It hasn't." She shot. Felix wasn't exactly sure what she shot, but it squealed upon impact. "You're still my partner."

Felix smirked. Sparring partners. Or, what was her phrase? _'Friends who help each other improve!’_

 _Goddess_ , that felt like a thousand moons ago. "Right. Partner."

"You alright?" Leonie slung her bow back over her shoulder. "If we're talking about who's got it worse, I think it's probably much harder to be the friend that killed her than the friend that watched."

Sighing out of his nose, Felix nodded. "I'll be fine."

Leonie paused, and Felix could feel her eyes on him. He didn't want to meet her gaze.

"Interesting."

"Hm?"

"You said 'I'll be fine' instead of 'I'm fine'. Implies something different." She hopped off her horse and walked over to whatever she killed. Looked like a rabbit. "You've grown quite a lot, you know?"

"What?"

Lifting her kill, she snickered. "Looks like dinner." That made Felix's stomach twist. He liked to hunt, but eating rabbit was not really his idea of food. Then again, he was aware how she grew up, for though she didn't talk much when they went on patrol or sparred, she did occasionally tell him stories of her upbringing. Mainly, she spoke of training under Jeralt, but occasionally she spoke of something more.

She walked back to her horse and hopped up, tying the horse to the hooks on her saddle. "I just mean, there was a day when you denied emotion entirely. You were always a good swordsmen, Felix, that's why I stalked your training sessions. But... I think this growth is good."

"Thanks," Felix said dryly. It didn't _feel_ good.

"Or maybe I just know you better now." Leonie shrugged. "Maybe you were always more emotional than I thought. Those were the rumors, weren't they? The old stories from your group?"

Felix bristled at that. "Thought you didn't pay attention to that drivel," he said.

"Can't ignore all of it. Besides, your name so rarely ran through the rumor mill, when it did I have to admit I was interested." 

Maybe this was not a good idea. His back hurt, his horse didn't like him, and now Leonie was digging in far too much. "You know, I usually go patrolling with you because you don't talk."

Leonie chuckled at that and placed her hands behind her head as she scouted the land for more animals. Or soldiers. She'd be as happy as he was to strike at both. "Alright, alright, I'll stop if you want. I'm just saying that I like talking to you."

With a scoff, Felix muttered, "You're crazy."

"What? I'm crazy?" Leonie snickered. "Not usually accused of that unless I'm fighting. Wait, you think I'm crazy because I like talking to you?" Then her shoulders hunched, and Felix felt the rolling tide of pity come from her, washing up on the conversation like the tide did on the shoreline. Made him want to bury his head in the sand. "Jeez, Felix. You need to lighten up."

Being told to 'lighten up' just made his mood even darker. "I don't want to talk about this."

"You don't want to talk at all," Leonie corrected. Damn her for being right. She kicked her horse back into a trot and Felix followed after her. "That's okay. C'mon, next rabbit's yours."

* * *

Patrolling had served as a useful distraction, but once Leonie left, Felix was left with his thoughts again. 

This was why he liked training, or patrolling, or doing just about anything else. When left alone with his thoughts, he ruminated more than he liked to admit. If he had to focus on a training dummy or a spar or anything physical, he was free from his brain.

Sylvain seemed to revel in having time with his thoughts. Though it often took him on a deep-dive to self-deprecation, he still took the time for it. Felix supposed there probably was something healthier about thinking through problems than burying them deep and never letting them see the light of day. That was why Sylvain was a tactician, and Felix was... well Felix was a sword. A sword to be used.

When the sword was broken, it would either get forged again or tossed out. Felix imagined his life would end up much the same.

Shaking his head of his thoughts, Felix instead he focused on Ranulf. Tried to, anyway. Brushed out the dark hair, and gave a few stiff pats to Ranulf's nose and neck. The horse kept leaning on him, brushing up against him and bumping Felix with his head. One time he butted against his back. Felix sucked in a breath at that and winced, and the horse made a weird noise.

 _Stupid_. Ranulf wasn't, but Felix's wound ached, and the horse kept brushing up against him. He walked away and filled the feed and scraped up its poop.

"Filthy animal," Felix grumbled, scraping it off the floor and leaving Ranulf so he could go pitch the manure out of the stables. “You take a shit the size of me."

On his way back, Felix began to take off some of his armor. Most of it had been cleaned off while he was in the infirmary so there could be better access to his wounds, but once he took the armor off, he saw there was still blood to be found. All over his clothes, the stiff scabbing was sticking to his underclothes as well.

Recognizing the feeling, he reached up to his hair. His scraped-back ponytail was crusty, blood and mud almost an adhesive to keep his hair stuck to his scalp.

 _Filthy animal,_ he thought. _Covered in blood and shit yourself._

Biting off his gloves and chucking them before the stable door, he ripped the ribbon out of his hair and ran his hands through it. Chunks of mud fell to the floor, and he winced at the tearing feeling as he peeled his hair of the blood. With a few more shakes it certainly wasn't clean, but it was no longer as disgusting and was actually loose enough to move.

He debated tying it back up, but the ribbon was soiled, and his arms were tired. _Pathetic, can't even tie up my own hair._ He dropped the ribbon next to the gloves.

Leaning his body against the panes of the wood, he stood for a moment and listened. The breeze was soft, instead of the cutting gales he had experienced from mages earlier, instead wrapping him up in a blanket of weather. Leaves skittered across the ground, and the horses all whinnied quietly and huffed and breathed.

All the stables were filled with horses, yet for once the area held not another soul; then again Marianne was surely busy and Felix was pretty sure Ferdinand had gotten injured as well. It was truly time to himself.

With one last deep breath, he opened the door and continued his work around the stable. Filled the trough with water, cleaned off some of the dirt. The job with his horse took much less time, because unlike the others, Ranulf wasn't covered in the blood and mire of the battlefield. Just a little bit of blood from a squirrel Felix had thrown a knife into. Leonie said she'd figure out what to do with it. Only the blood remained.

He scrubbed it off.

Giving the animal a few apple slices, it began to nibble a little bit at the palm of Felix's hands. Usually he wore gloves while he did this, but he'd left them outside, and the sensation was strange. Tingling and abrasive, yet wet.

"Ugh," Felix said, but he fed the rest of the slices.

Turning his back to the horse, he wiped off his hands with a cloth and started putting everything away. Hanging up the rake, the brush, reorganizing some of the equipment to deal with his horseshoes. Behind him he heard Ranulf stirring, likely hoping for more apple slices. Felix ignored him.

Then he heard a big _whump_. Startled, Felix turned around.

Ranulf was on the ground. On his side. Like he was dead. Felix wasn't great with animals, but that seemed sudden, and the fall seemed a bit too graceful. Then Ranulf let out this big breath, and his eyelids fluttered, drowsy.

Blinking at the creature, Felix stepped tentatively around it. Then he crouched down.

"It just means she's comfortable with me", Felix remembered.

 _Oh_.

Felix crouched in front of the horse and pet Ranulf's neck.

"Good... horse."

It moved its face to rub its muzzle against Felix's leg. Huffing a chuckle, he moved to sit down cross legged and began scratching in between the animal's ears and drifted his fingers up and down its nose.

"Probably glad I don't bring you into battle. You're cleaner than I am." Felix brought up one knee so he could lean across it, but kept one hand petting the horse. It made a little whinnying noise, but otherwise remained undisturbed. "Don't expect me to coo at you like Sylvain does Titania. You're a horse, not a baby."

He did not seem to mind, looking rather peaceful in the moment.

Maybe the animal wasn't so bad. This one, anyway. Ranulf did his job. Worked hard. Didn't spook as easily as Leonie's horse could sometimes. Overall, Felix could see the appeal.

"Told you he loved you."

Felix startled. Looking up, Sylvain was leaning against the door frame, cavalier in posture but had a very wholehearted expression on his face.

Ranulf huffed.

"He just likes that I feed him," Felix said, turning away. 

"Mm, I think he feels safe with you, midst all this shit." Sylvain said. He sounded weary, voice rough despite how soft it was. "I understand the sentiment."

Felix sighed. _So much for not thinking._ "What does that mean?"

"I feel safe with you, too." Sylvain chuckled. "Always protecting me, even from myself."

This conversation was already turning somewhere Felix wasn't sure he could navigate. He didn't like when Sylvain went places where he couldn't follow, even in a figurative way. 

Maybe especially in a figurative way.

“If you trained harder you wouldn't need so much protecting," Felix said. Maybe if he was gruff, Sylvain would walk away. “If you thought through some of the things you said, you wouldn't need me."

"Oh, I'll always need you, Fe."

"Yeah, it shows in how you were ready to kill yourself just so I could maintain a status of 'not-having-killed Bernadetta'." His tone was sardonic. He didn't care.

The horse stirred and Felix patted it down, trying to keep him calm even though Felix was losing his senses.

"Maybe I thought I'd lose you if you knew I had pitted you against a friend like that. Ever think about that?"

"Completely ignoring the fact that I would have almost definitely have lost you, had we taken your strategy. But you didn't think about that. Or, if you did, you thought it negligible at best."

Sylvain remained quiet. And Felix didn't know why, because he could have left it at that, but all the persistent emotions kept swirling in his lungs, and, for once, he found himself unable to stop talking.

"It was, wasn't it? Negligible to you. I didn't realize our friendship was so fragile, in this time of war. Didn't think you believed my feelings were so _weak_." Then Felix chuckled, but it was dry and bereft. "Then again, I suppose that's my fault."

"Why would that - it's not your fault."

That strange grief came up on him with a sudden and unwanted reappearance. This was why Felix hated thinking like Sylvain. Because once he unearthed all of this vulnerability, this guilt, he just felt resigned to it. This was his fault. All of Sylvain's insecurities, and all this time Felix had thought he'd helped alleviate them, when he'd only made them worse.

"Yes. It is. You need words Sylvain. Always have. Ingrid, Mercedes, even the damn Boar have figured out how to get it through to you, they talk about it like it's easy. And it should be. You're easy to love, Syl, so of course to everyone it's easy. To everyone but me." Felix scoffed, and yet the sound broke in his throat. He coughed to cover it up. 

"Easy to love? Felix -"

"I'm not a fool. It's not that I don't know what I could say, it's simply that those words don't sound like me, because they aren't, and you wouldn't believe them if you heard it from me anyway, so they're not worth saying. And I don't have any other words to give you then what I've got now." All the anger was being beaten out of him, his words coming out more in exasperation than anything. "I figured you understood, but clearly, you don't. And while you are easy to love, I am not, so it doesn't really matter, now does it?" 

Felix pet the horse a few more times before standing up and facing Sylvain head-on. "I'm leaving."

"You're coming with me, actually, we're going to check the monastery for any signs of thieves or spies."

A thrum of a headache began to be strummed in Felix's head. He knew what that meant. Sylvain wanted to talk.

Felix was done talking.

"I just got done patrolling."

"Yeah, and you should have been resting. And since you won't rest, we have two options: you come with me, we check defenses, and then you get cleaned up and finally rest up on that injury of yours, _or_ we drug you with one of Claude's concoctions to put you to sleep in order to stop you from tearing your wound open on the training ground and you wake up the next morning none the wiser."

Felix's thoughts broke. "Wait, what?"

"I'm kidding." Sylvain gave a wicked smile. He was pretty sure he _wasn't_ , but Felix didn't want to figure that out now. "You're coming with me."

"I don't want to talk anymore, Gautier," Felix said, trying to slip by him.

Sylvain placed a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Fine, Felix. But we've got a lot to unpack, you and I, so if you don't want to talk, shut up and listen. Because I've got a lot to say."

There was hardly any room to argue with him, there. "When do you not?" Felix said, begrudgingly, resigned to follow Sylvain's command. 

Sylvain laughed. "C'mon."

Letting Felix out of the stable, Sylvain shut it and looped the rope behind him, keeping the door shut. Then Sylvain picked up Felix's disgusting gloves and beat them out over his leg, handing them back to Felix.

Felix grumbled, but put them on.

Sylvain grabbed the ribbon, but upon inspection he crumpled it up. "I think that's a goner. Besides, I like your hair down."

"Shut up."

To Sylvain's credit, he did shut up. For a little while. Once away from the stables, until they made it near the greenhouse, Sylvain didn't say a word.

The sun was crawling underneath the horizon, night mostly having taken its place in the cloudy sky. The lake glittered in the fading light. The world was darkening, the evergreens loomed, and shadows took up much of the grounds. A few lamps were lit, but people mostly kept to themselves. It was getting colder. The ghost of a steam exited Felix's lips as he breathed, but Sylvain had clouds. He always did seem to run warmer than Felix did.

"Easy to love," Sylvain whispered, surveying the entry point. It was the first thing he'd said, since he'd said _I like your hair_ _down_.

Felix inspected the grounds to try to find any signs of intruders. They had plenty of guards around Garreg Mach. This was really did seem like a futile assignment Sylvain drew up to make him go on a walk.

Sylvain continued. "That's what you called me. So matter-of-factly, too. Not a doubt in your mind." Sylvain chuckled, light and soft. He looked positively in awe.

It was true, but Felix would not be repeating himself. He let Sylvain ruminate over the words. Felix so rarely told him nice things, clearly, and Felix had told Ingrid he'd try harder to reciprocate how much he cared about Sylvain. He could let Sylvain stew in this for a little longer.

But Sylvain opted not to. "And then you said you weren't."

That made a knot in Felix's stomach. Sylvain was going to latch onto that if he didn't cut that topic down right now. "I'm not. I imagine that is why you and the others like to bring up when I was a soft-bellied toddler." He still didn't like that Leonie had overheard those rumors. That part of himself was supposed to be locked away from all those who didn't experience it first-hand.

Sylvain leaned forward at that, hunkering his tall frame down to meet Felix's eyes. There was an all-knowing glint he got in his eye, and a little quirk to his smile.

"I remember that little boy, maybe even better than you do." Sylvain paused and stood straight again, but Felix knew that he was still watching him out of the corner of his eye. "And I remember when Glenn died and they sent his armor to your house, you were still that little boy. It wasn't until Rodrigue said he'd died for the honor of the kingdom that things changed. I remember watching your face. You looked like you bit into a lemon. And your eyes went all hard." His voice was wistful, like the memory was something they could step into this instant, if he just whispered for it to appear. "See, I'd been worried that you were going to start hating Dimitri over that, but you didn't. Instead, you just... changed."

Felix's heart was racing in his chest, and he could feel the warmth drain from his face, all of his thoughts and emotions pouring out of him like he was the drain of a sink. "Sylvain. I really don't want to talk about this."

It wasn't a threat like before. It was a _need_. He couldn't talk about this right now. He was already fighting off so much misery, he didn't need another enemy to cut down.

Thankfully, Sylvain knew. He had a soft smile on his face and gave a knowing nod. "I know. I know Felix, I swear I'm getting to my point." Sylvain's soft smile fell right back to contemplative. A baseline, for him. "I remember eating with your family after that. And you weren't saying a word. You hadn't spoken once, other than to yell at your father. You didn't run to me like you did all those other times, and Ingrid couldn't help because she was..." Sylvain brushed that off, because they both knew what state Ingrid was in. "And you weren't following Dimitri and Dimitri didn't know what to say anyways. So I realized it was on me to get your mind off of it. So naturally, I tried to annoy you. And I like to think it was working."

"Of course it was working, you're an expert at being annoying."

"Hah!" Sylvain's bark of laughter sent electricity down Felix's spine. He didn't know where this was going at all. "I kept picking the meat off your plate and replacing it with random crap at the table when you weren't looking."

"I remember," Felix said gruffly.

"I remember switching it with a marble, a napkin, another fork. Bread. And you turned and you said that if I didn't stop, you'd stab me." 

Felix recalled.

"And I remember thinking, ah, this is just him acting tough. Trying to be Glenn, now that he was gone. The Felix I know would _never_ be able to pull that off." Sylvain chuckled. "So I did do it again. With a sweet bun. And you weren't paying attention so you actually cut into it, and when you took a bite the look on your face was priceless. You were so fucking mad." Sylvain snickered. "Do you remember what you did?"

Felix nodded. "Yes. I stabbed you. Like I said I would."

Sylvain beamed, though the memory was actually a bit gruesome. "You took your dinner knife and stabbed my hand clean through." Sylvain took off his glove and waved his fingers. In between two of his knuckles was the scar. "The knife was serrated, too. It fucking hurt. I don't think even you realized just how bad that was going to hurt. But do you remember what I did?"

"Well your eyes watered."

"Yeah, my eyes watered because it _hurt_. But do you remember what I did?"

Looking away, Felix did remember. He remembered the whole ordeal. He remembered lanky Sylvain, always there, the only one not dancing around him since his outburst and not coddling him since Glenn died. He even remembered the way the blood began to pool in Sylvain's hand after Felix had stabbed him. And the humored smile on his face. "You grinned."

"I grinned. Because I realized that you were not just acting like Glenn. The Felix I knew would never have been able to do that. This was something new." Sylvain put the glove back on and placed his hands on his hips, the smile on his face similar to the one he had that night.

"I did say I was sorry," Felix chimed in. He didn't want to sound like a complete lunatic, even though it was just the two of them. 

"Yeah, you did. In your new way. Not in the blubbering way you used to be. You said 'I'm sorry, but I did warn you', and I had no argument for that. Not that you would have heard me." Sylvain laced his hands again and put them behind his head. "And it just kept coming, too. Glenn used to hit me, but it never hurt, and he could be a little cruel, but Felix you can be _scathing_."

Crossing his arms, Felix couldn't help but grimace. Sylvain had been a great friend for years, and all he did was abuse him.

Sylvain shook his head, that amazed look still on his face. "And Felix, hanging with you became so much _fun_."

Fun?

Felix choked.

"I'm... fun?"

Sylvain laughed. "Yeah, Felix. You are. A lot of fun. And I like to think we have fun together, right?"

With a shrug, Felix nodded. "I suppose."

They did have fun together. Even when Sylvain annoyed the living daylights out of him, it was kind of fun. When Felix tipped the board game when he was about to lose, childish, but fun. The way Sylvain sparred with Felix was always so energetic, and Felix was always chiding him for not training him enough, and Sylvain always came up with some clever but crude line back, and in the end Felix did have to admit it was fun.

"You never stabbed me like that again, but you don't pull your punches, Fe. Not with your fists, and not with your words. I _love_ that about you."

As if Sylvain knew it, he let those words settle in the air. They wrapped around Felix like silk, but anchored him like chains. Felix looked away and walked ahead, which regrettably gave Sylvain more drive to keep talking.

"Felix Hugo Fraldraius, I will not lie to you. You're not easy to love. Quite frankly, you're a pain in the ass. You're difficult just because you can be, you're terse, you can be downright hostile, and when you aim to hit and you aim to hit _hard_. But every time I speak to you, I know I'm getting you entirely. And that - that's gold."

"Oh for fuck's sake -" Felix started, but there was no stopping Sylvain now.

"I'm not the only one who thinks so!" Sylvain said, cutting Felix off. "Anyone with a brain can see that it's so goddess-damn worth it to love you. Because when you care about someone, you make them feel so special. You think you're bad with words, yet every time you say something from the heart people clutch it with a death grip."

This was just him blowing smoke up his ass. Felix knew Sylvain didn't like when he was upset, but he was really laying it on thick. "This is ludicrous."

"It's not. It's not, I promise. Ashe keeps that book he loaned you on hand, and repeats to himself all the time "it's okay to be who you are", he says it whenever he's down. Annette sings around you just because she knows you like it. I told her I liked her voice, but she doesn't care. It was your words that got her to sing more often."

Sylvain only got more emphatic, and even if Felix had a hard time stomaching it, it was clear that Sylvain believed every word coming out of his mouth. "And me? I've got years of your words to keep me going. 'You have me out there', you said that to me the other day, and I don't think you realized that I nearly keeled over. You almost make me want to hug you. You said that to me when I was laid up in the infirmary, remember? That kept me laughing for days. And, and you also check on me when I'm eating alone in the Dining Hall. Don't think I didn't notice. Ingrid is hardly quiet, and I saw you standing there, worrying."

Sylvain chuckled, but it trailed off, dove over a cliff. The sound made Felix look up, and Sylvain suddenly looked pale, a ghost in the dark. Felix furrowed his eyebrows, wondering where this was all going now. 

Sylvain gulped. " _You've gotta be fucking kidding, Syl_. Now that - that stung. Stung more than anything you'd said to me in a long time. Because you were right."

"I was angry."

"You were upset. And rightfully so. What I did wasn't fair. Because you're right, you do make it perfectly clear where your loyalties lie." Sylvain placed a hand on Felix's shoulder. It was warm, even through his gauntlet, but the look on his face was even warmer. It made Felix want to burn up on the spot, the cool night air doing nothing to protect him from Sylvain's gaze. "See, it's easy for people to dismiss you as just being an ass, but I think a lot of people realize that if they get in your good-graces, they're in on a - a special club. A small circle of people whose lives are made that much better because you like them."

This was too much. Felix was expecting maybe an apology, and of course, it wouldn't be Sylvain without endless words singing some form of praise around Felix to try to get in his good graces, but this was far more than anything he could have ever dreamed up. It was as if there was a poorly constructed dam in Sylvain’s chest filled to the brim with words, and it would always collapse at every available opportunity and suddenly Felix would be drowning in them. Because Sylvain had no idea that Felix didn’t know how to swim.

They had slowed down considerably. Sylvain's long legs brought him back to Felix's side swifter than he would have liked, because Felix wasn't quite done turning Sylvain's words over like stones.

They made it to the dormitories, inspecting all of the empty rooms that surrounded Felix's. The moon was making its ascent slowly, illuminating far too much of Felix while he mulled over the words. They made it to the steps and before they went any further, Felix said:

"You were the first one, you know."

Sylvain furrowed his eyebrows. "First what?"

Felix coughed, the red on his face already creeping, surely to go down his neck and his arms and his hands, like it did every time he blushed. "First one, you know. In the club. Or whatever you called it."

Sylvain stopped. He looked to Felix and stared. At first, Felix didn't face him. _Couldn't_. But a few beats of silence, and he was trembling, waiting for Sylvain to say something, do _something_.

When he finally did look up, Sylvain was walking towards him. Grabbing Felix by the shoulders, he walked with him backwards until he was almost up against the wall, but held steady just before it. Making sure not to press his wound into the stone.

Felix stared up at Sylvain, waiting. Words died in his mouth, his brain too stupid.

Thankfully he didn't need them. Sylvain kissed him. Closed mouth, testing, but forceful. Felix was caught up in it, thunderstruck and adrift in the sensation.

Then he kissed back.

This he could understand. This Felix could hold a grip on. This didn't have a double meaning or something to decipher. Felix might be terrible at this, too, but this was direct and tangible and had Sylvain in his hands - and Felix hadn't realized just how much he'd wanted that until Sylvain was in them.

Sylvain pulled back. "You kiss like you're trying to hit me."

"Maybe I'm thinking about it," Felix said with a laugh.

His eyes widened at that. "Oh shit, Felix, did I -"

Felix grabbed Sylvain by his collar and pulled him towards the wall, reversing their positions. He brought himself back to Sylvain's lips, but didn't quite meet them together. "You think too much. You think too much and you talk too much," he said.

His words were like venom, but Felix kissed like he was reciting a love letter. He pressed his hands to Sylvain's face, carding his fingers through Sylvain's hair, letting one hand rest on his throat, thumb stroking Sylvain's jaw. Sylvain seemed surprised, Felix was himself, but he could follow along. Grabbing at Felix's waist gingerly, Sylvain tentatively wrapped one arm around his waist, bringing his other hand to Felix's hair.

Sylvain sank. It was like his knees were weak. After all the talking, making Felix wanting to box himself away and never come out, he was oddly grateful at Sylvain's shrinking. His heart was hammering so loud it was in his ears, but Sylvain seemed as shaken up as he was. They were back on even ground. It all made Felix feel a bit more like himself, having to hold Sylvain up, kissing down into his mouth, still in control of something when the conversation had been taken so far out of his hands.

"Felix." Sylvain reached a hand and passed it over Felix's neck, tangling his fingers into the hair at his nape. Tremors. Sylvain fixed his shaking with a caress. "Felix, I adore you."

A gasp stuttered out of his lungs and Sylvain clutched him close. There it was again. The need to explain what he had already _shown_. "Syl, I know." Felix kissed him to keep him from saying anymore.

They slowed. They were both leaning against the wall now, caressing each other and holding each other, Felix dipping his fingers into Sylvain's collar, Sylvain's hands tracing around the fringes of Felix's blood-soaked shirt. Despite feeling the scrape of grime, Felix couldn't tear his hands away. Sylvain pressed a kiss to his jaw, sliding up to his temple and pressing another kiss there.

Syl pressed his face against Felix's neck, holding him there for a moment. Nose brushing against the junction. Felix swept a hand through his hair.

"Syl?"

"I'm good." Sylvain said, moving to keep his forehead against his chest. "I'm better than good. I'm..." He let out a chuckle and pressed a kiss to Felix's heart which nearly had him doubling over. Sylvain's hands traced up, almost to the wound, when he pulled away. "You need to get cleaned up."

"I'll handle that. We are, however, supposed to be looking for intruders." Felix said, pushing him upright. Wouldn't be a good thing if someone had gotten into the borders of the monastery while he and Sylvain were making out in the corner. They'd both want to throw each other off the building.

Sylvain swept a knuckle underneath his chin. A big stretch to his lips, kissing his cheek. Everything tingled, warm and strange. Sylvain passed a hand through Felix's hair, then grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs.

They stopped in front of Felix's door.

Looking at the door, Felix raised an eyebrow. "Syl. Do you think an intruder's in my room or are you seriously expecting an invitation?"

Sylvain chuckled. "I wouldn't do that to you," he said. Taking Felix's key, he put it in the lock and pushed open the door. "You need to rest. Ignatz volunteered to check the grounds with me, I'm meeting him in a bit." He pressed a kiss to Felix's forehead and cupped his face in his big hands.

Part of Felix wanted to shrug him off, berate him for lying. The other part of him, the part that was winning, felt so comfortable that he couldn't tear himself away or bring himself to speak.

"Get cleaned off. Go to bed. And I mean it, Fe. Actually get some rest."

"I'm not a child," Felix scorned. "I can take care of myself."

"And yet I find myself needing to tell you not to go to the training grounds."

Pulling Sylvain down to him, Felix pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Fine." Stepping into his room, Felix shuffled. "What do we do now?" Felix asked. "I feel..."

Sylvain stepped forward and pressed one final kiss to Felix's lips, before pulling him back towards his bed. "You think too much, and you talk too much," he said. Felix snorted. Pushing Felix to sit down in his bed, Sylvain passed a hand through his hair. "Get some rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Okay."

With a grin, Sylvain pulled away. Felix felt a smile at his own lips too.

"Goodnight, Felix."

"Goodnight, Sylvain."

  


**Author's Note:**

> Well, the first fic I posted seemed to go over well, so I thought I'd post another, and then it ended up being long so I thought it would be best for it to be two chapters, but then I realized that it was not quite long enough. When I tried to fix it, it wouldn't work, so I reposted it. 
> 
> Did you guys get the references to characters from FE Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn? I've been playing FE for years -- been watching my siblings play it for even longer. Pretty sure my first fictional crushes were on Soren and Ranulf. Wanted to give the games some love, since those two were some of my favorites. Back when the blue-haired MCs ruled the FE universe (who knew Chrom would be the last?)
> 
> Let me know what you think! I think I might post a series soon, but it won't star these two as a couple. I love the two of them both as a romantic pairing but I also like them as just really close friends. I think intimate platonic boy friendships need a bit more love these days, don't you? These two have one that could last the ages, if people wanted to spin it that way.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Look out for part II soon!


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